


Local Legends

by mysteriousMonarch



Category: South Park
Genre: High School AU, peruvian craig
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-20 22:02:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14902868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysteriousMonarch/pseuds/mysteriousMonarch
Summary: "Two days into the senior class trip to Peru and I'm already bored out of my mind."Stan was just looking forward to riding some alpacas to make his class trip to Peru more exciting. He had no intentions of getting swept up in some sort of mysterious maybe fling with a local that seems to really be into guinea pigs for some reason.





	Local Legends

**Author's Note:**

> I used a prompt generator and it came up with this: "A mountain is the location, discovery is the theme. A hat is an object that plays a part in the story." I realized I had stumbled upon a prompt tailor made for Peruvian Craig. I just really wanted to write something short and simple to ease myself back into writing Staig and South Park. I expect to go back to working on Tragedy soon! Also, a friend helped me with the Spanish translations because I'm not good enough at it yet to do it on my own.

Two days into the senior class trip to Peru and I'm already bored out of my mind. Sure, the Andes mountains are pretty rad- they're a hell of a lot bigger than the ones we've got back home, but between Cartman arguing with Kyle about the difference between Mexican people and Peruvian people and Mr. Garrison fighting with the interpreter I'm completely over it. The only thing I've really been looking forward to is riding alpacas to Machu Picchu because I'm a little bit of a sucker for animals.

Currently I'm being dragged around a local market with all the other kids in my class. All of the wares kind of look the same to be honest. I stare at the display of pan flutes in front of me considering the possibility of buying one to bring back home to my family. One in particular stands out from the rest. It's average sized with light colored wood with gold and blue accents and the silhouette of what looks like a guinea pig on it. I reach for it to get a closer look but suddenly my hand makes contact with someone else's hand which scares the shit out of me. 

"Jesus!" I yelp in surprise jerking my hand away. "Sorry." I look up to see a boy that looks about my age. His face is expressionless and based on the fact I don't know who the fuck he is, he's probably a local. He says nothing and I'm starting to feel really awkward so I end up blurting out, "I like your hat." He's got on a blue chullo with a yellow puff ball and the same tribal shapes that are on most of the clothes in this market. He's even wearing a blue patterned poncho with rainbow colored tassels at the bottom of it. He still says nothing. "Do you speak English?" I finally ask.

"Yeah," he says in a nasally sounding voice. Well okay then.

"You go ahead and take that," I point at the pan flute. "I was just going to get it as a souvenir for my family. I'll pick a different one. They don't give a crap."

“Okay,” the boy says and picks it up to examine it. More one-word responses.

“You’re kind of a dick, dude,” I tell him bluntly. He locks eyes with me for a moment and a shiver goes down my spine.

“I know,” he says flatly and turns his attention to the man running the pan flute stall.

“¿Cuánto para esa la flauta?” the boy asks holding the flute up. The flute man turns to see who is asking and his face lights up.

“¿Por tu, Craig?” the man smiles. “No teno tu dinero. Es un honor para usas una de la mis flautas.”

“Gracias. Haces bien,” the boy responds. “Hasta luego.” He turns to walk away.

“You don’t have to pay for that?” I ask feeling surprised.

“Nope,” the boy says and walks away. I watch the blue chullo hat eventually disappear in the crowd of people.

“C’mon Stan, we’re going to get lunch,” my best friend Kyle says to me. When did he get here?

“Did you just see that kid?” I ask. I feel like the whole interaction with him happened in a dream.

“What kid?” Kyle asks looking around.

“The one with the blue chullo hat,” I say. Kyle shrugs.

“I don’t know dude. Why? What’d he do?” How do I explain it? Was the boy something I imagined? I feel like I saw something I shouldn’t have. I look over at the empty space where the guinea pig pan flute once was.

“He was kind of a dick,” I find myself saying.

“Oh,” Kyle looks confused. I don’t blame him.

“Let’s go get lunch,” I say changing the subject.

“Yeah dude I’m starving,” Kyle grins. I follow him back to the group but can’t help looking around for that blue chullo. Maybe Peru isn’t as boring as I thought.

Later that night we all head out to a street festival that’s taking place in a nearby town. 

“Stan, we’re going to try to find a vendor that sells lucuma ice cream,” Kyle says to me while we walk down the crowded street. The heavy thump of drums can be heard more clearly than the rest of the music being performed somewhere within the festival.

“That sounds- ah!” I jump out of the way as two small children run past us playing tag with each other. Kyle laughs and I move back to where I had been before the interruption. “That sounds great,” I finish my thought. We find Cartman and begin searching for the ice cream.

“Isn’t it hilarious that Kenny couldn’t afford to even come on this trip?” Cartman laughs. “I guess not everyone can be as fortunate as us.”

“You know that me and Kyle’s parents had to help your mom pay for part of your tickets, right?” I say to him.

“What?” Cartman nearly shrieks.

“It’s true fatass,” Kyle nods. “Your mom works like two jobs. She couldn’t afford this trip by herself.” The rest of the argument phases out of my attention as soon as I see a blue chullo hat with a yellow puff ball up ahead mixed in with the crowd. The next thing I know I’m taking off after it. My friends call after me, but I ignore them. I finally stop running when I see the hat break away from the crowd and go to stand in line at a food vendor. I steady my breath so it doesn’t seem like I just ran a marathon and casually walk over to him.

“Hola,” I say immediately feeling stupid because I’m pretty sure he got the gist earlier that I don’t fucking speak Spanish. But here I am, thinking it’s a great idea to greet him in his native language. He just turns to look at me with a blank look which makes me shiver again. Despite his soft brown complexion and black hair his eyes are a dark blue color. He turns back to look ahead in line and steps forward as the line moves.

“Remember me? From the flute place?” I try again.

“Yeah,” he answers in that nasally tone. Well this is getting supremely awkward. What the hell else am I supposed to say? Why do I even want to say anything?

“You from around here?” I ask lamely. What a stupid question. I kick myself mentally.

“Yep,” he responds and takes another step as the line moves.

“Cool,” I say in defeat. I awkwardly hang around him until it’s his turn to order food. Maybe he just understands English but doesn’t really speak it.

“Dos por favor,” he tells the food vendor and hands over some money. Looks like it’s just flutes that he gets for free. He’s handed two servings which seems strange until he turns away from the food stand and I notice for the first time that he has a small guinea pig perched on his shoulder. He breaks off a piece of food and hands it up to the little rodent. The pan flute with the guinea pig on it is hanging around his neck.

“Wow, you really like guinea pigs,” I say out loud.

“Don’t talk about that here,” he reprimands me.

“So you can speak English!” I end up saying a bit loudly.

“Duh. I told you that the first time you asked me,” he says in his nasally monotone voice. He only has the barest hint of an accent when he speaks English.

“Why can’t we talk about guinea pigs even though you have one right there?” I ask. He starts looking around with unease and I swear I hear the words “guinea pig” echoed around us by various passersby.

“Shut up,” he says through clenched teeth. I grin enjoying teasing him a bit too much.

“What’s his name?” I whisper with glee. Suddenly he’s yanking me by the arm leading me further from the festival to the outskirts of town. I remain silent as he trudges determinedly guiding me away from all the buildings and people and up a steep grass covered hill. I don’t know how long we’ve been walking, but it almost feels like I blinked and then found myself high up on this grassy hill overlooking the ocean in one direction and the twinkling lights of the town in the other. He lets go of my arm and plops down on the grass cross-legged and continues to feed his guinea pig while also eating his own portion like he didn’t just drag me to some super secluded place with a view some people would donate an organ to see. 

“His name is Stripe,” he says out of nowhere. It takes a minute before I realize he’s answering my question about the guinea pig’s name.

“Oh,” I say quietly. “What’s your name?” I ask.

“Craig,” he answers. “You?” he asks. I stare at him for a moment stunned that he actually asked me a question. In that second I soak in the black fringe of his bangs that are visible from under the blue chullo, the intensity of his dark blue eyes, and the smoothness of his light tera cotta skin.

“Stan,” I manage to say past the lump in my throat. I take a second to clear it then ask, “What are you eating?”

“Pollo a la Brasa,” he says. I am suddenly reminded that just a short while ago I was looking for ice cream with my friends before I caught sight of Craig and took off running to find him. Why did I just leave them like that? They could be worried about where I ran off to. Well, Kyle would. Maybe. It feels like that happened yesterday. My stomach lets out a growl. I guess I haven’t eaten dinner yet. “Here.” Craig hands me the stick he had been feeding Stripe from. “He doesn’t need to eat the whole thing,” he says. My fingertips brush his as I take the stick of meat from him and I swear to God my heart misses about four beats.

“Thanks,” I tell him and take a bite of the food. What was I even thinking about a minute ago?

“I like to come here to look at the stars,” Craig says placing Stripe down on the grass and laying back once he’s finished eating.

“Won’t he run off?” I ask as I watch Stripe wander around.

“He comes and goes,” Craig answers lazily.

“Oh,” I say and lay back in the grass too once I’ve finished eating. I stare up at the night sky, at the thousands of twinkling lights and listen to the sound of the waves lapping against the shore below.

“Stan! Stan!” Someone is calling my name. “Stan!” Frantically. They are frantically calling my name. I open my eyes. When did I close them? “Oh thank God! Stan?” Kyle is in my face with worried wide green eyes and sweat on his brow.

“Kyle?” I ask. My tongue feels thick with sleep. I’ve been sleeping?

“Stanley Marsh, where in God’s name have you been?” Mr. Garrison is in my face now angrily shouting. I sit up and look around. I’m on the grassy hill with an empty kebab skewer in my hand and I’m surrounded by my classmates who either look confused or bored. Or in Kyle and Mr. Garrison’s case, angry.

“What are you all doing here?” I ask. I look around some more but don’t see Craig or Stripe anywhere.

“We were all looking for you, dumbass!” Mr. Garrison yells.

“Yeah dude,” Kyle says. “We said we were going to look for ice cream and you all of a sudden took off running. We tried calling after you, but you ignored us and then we couldn’t find you anywhere.”

“Where’d he go?” I ask.

“Who?” Kyle looks confused.

“Craig,” I say.

“Who the fuck is Craig?” Cartman asks.

“Wait,” Kyle says. “Is that the kid you were asking me about before? The one that was a dick to you?”

“Yeah,” I say standing up and dusting off.

“Did he abduct you?” Mr. Garrison demands. Did Craig abduct me? I try to remember how I got here and remember him leading me here by the arm.

“No, I followed him here,” I assure them.

“So, what, did he roofie you or something?” Cartman asks.

“No!” I say automatically. I’m honestly not sure but I really don’t think Craig would do that. Even though I don’t know him at all.

“Well clearly Stanley is alive and well so let’s all get back to the hotel,” Mr. Garrison gestures for everyone to start heading back. “You’re on thin ice Marsh,” he says to me. “Don’t go running off again.” I nod and walk with Kyle back to the hotel.

I got a good night’s sleep and ate pretty well at breakfast before we all loaded up into a bus to head off to Machu Picchu. Today is our last full day of the trip and I can’t explain the pit in my stomach that makes me feel. Even the prospect of riding alpacas in the imminent future can’t shake the feeling of unease.

“You might not be able to ride one Cartman,” Kyle says in a matter of fact way. “It might be considered animal cruelty to make one of those alpacas carry so much weight.”

“Shut up! I’m not even fat you asshole,” Cartman shouts.

“Boys!” Mr. Garrison threatens.

“I’ve been looking forward to this since day one,” I say with a smile. The bus pulls into a parking lot that seems like it is surrounded by massive mountains. As soon as we get off the bus I can already see some of the tour guides getting what looks like a small herd of alpaca ready for the climb. It takes awhile for everyone to listen to the history lesson about the ruins and then handling instructions on the alpacas. Clyde is afraid to go near them at first but eventually is able to be coaxed to get on one. Once we all are mounted on our alpacas we form our long caravan as we begin ascending the mountain.

“So, what’s the deal with this Craig guy?” Kyle asks once we’ve been riding for a few minutes.

“I don’t know,” I answer truthfully.

“Are you having a secret Peruvian fling?” he laughs.

“No!” I answer too quickly and feel heat pool in my cheeks. I wouldn’t call it a fling, but it’s definitely something special. I just have no idea how to put it into words for Kyle.

“But, like, he’s from here right?” Kyle asks.

“Yeah, I mean no shit,” I say sarcastically. “He’s obviously not one of us,” I gesture at our classmates around us on their alpacas.

“So, what’s his deal?” Kyle asks. I shrug.

“He likes guinea pigs,” I say to which Kyle snorts in laughter.

“Seriously?” he asks.

“Yeah. Yesterday he had one on his shoulder,” I smile at the memory.

“What the fuck happened yesterday?” he asks quietly.

“I just- I was with you guys and then I recognized his hat in the crowd.”

“The blue chullo?” Kyle interrupts.

“Yeah, I didn’t think. I just went for him,” I tell him slowly as the memories come back to me. “He got food and then led me away to that hill. We looked at the stars.” I realize I’m smiling like a goof.

“Sounds romantic,” Kyle teases. We fall into a comfortable silence. We reach the ruins and it’s breathtaking. We dismount and leave our alpacas to graze.

“You all have about thirty minutes to explore on your own before we meet back up here for lunch,” Mr. Garrison announces to the group. “Thirty minutes, Marsh,” he adds. I roll my eyes at him and head off to go inside one of the ruins. There isn’t much left to it but I notice some carvings on the walls and spot something blue on the stone floor. 

“There you are, dude,” Kyle says as he enters the ruin behind me. “You’ve gotta stop disappearing so fast.”

“Sorry,” I say automatically. I keep my eyes locked on the blue something on the floor. I pick it up. It’s Craig’s hat.

“What’s that?” Kyle asks. I say nothing but clutch it close to my body as I look up at the carvings on the wall.

“It’s Craig,” I whisper feeling my body go numb.

“What?” Kyle comes closer. He looks at the object in my hands. “Is that a fucking blue chullo hat?” he sounds mortified. “Shit! Do you think he came up here and something happened to him?” he whispered urgently.

“No, look,” I point to the carvings on the wall. Hell, I don’t just point. I trail my fingertips over the indentions in the stone to make sure they’re real. My heart skips about four beats just like when my fingers touched his. Carved into the stone in these ancient Incan ruins is a young man wearing a chullo hat and poncho that is unmistakably Craig. The man has a pan flute in his hand. There is a story being told across the stone. Giant guinea pig looking creatures are eating people and wreaking havoc. Craig plays the flute and some power coming from his eyes kills the guinea pigs.

“This is too fucking freaky,” Kyle throws his hands up and starts to leave.

“Kyle wait!” I try to get him to stay so that maybe we can figure things out.

“What the fuck is that hat even doing here? I just-”

“Shh!” I slap my hand over his mouth. “Do you hear that?” I whisper. We’re silent for a moment. The ancient stone walls around us are cool and still and our rapid breathing isn’t nearly as loud as my heartbeat in my ears, but I can also hear the faint sound of a pan flute in the distance. Kyle shoves my hand away from his mouth.

“Hear what?” he demands. “I’m going back for lunch. Your Craig shit is just too weird, Stan I’m sorry.” He leaves and I stand in the ruin alone clutching the blue chullo hat with the sounds of pan flute getting louder. I wait a minute then step outside to see Craig standing there in broad daylight with a pan flute held up to his lips and his eyes glowing an electric blue as he plays. The blue glow billows from his eyes like smoke from a fire. I look desperately past Craig at Kyle’s back as he walks away just forty feet from me. I realize that he can’t hear the flute at all. I look back at Craig, eyes wide and see that he’s smirking at me as he plays. In the absence of his hat his head is adorned with a golden headdress of multicolored feathers. He wears a bright blue knee length tunic that is made up of several patterns and ends in rainbow tassels. A gold belt is fastened around his waist and gold cuffs decorate his arms. He wears leg cuffs around his calves that look to be made from alpaca fur and golden sandals on his feet. I also notice Stripe running along on the ground near him.

“How?” I ask in absolute shock. He stops playing and his eyes gradually return to normal. He lets the flute hang against his chest and locks eyes with me. I shiver involuntarily. He reaches for the hat in my hands and pushes it back against my chest. I forget how to breathe.

“Keep it,” he says with a coy smile then brings the flute back to his lips and begins to play again. The intensity of the blue in his eyes increases until they are a blinding glow that leaves trails of light as he moves. He slowly walks away leaving me standing here feeling as if I’m literally breaking. Everything goes silent. I feel like I’m frozen in place for a hundred years before the silence is broken.

“God damn it Marsh I said thirty minutes!” Mr. Garrison shouts breaking me from my reverie. My face feels wet and I reach up to wipe away tears I didn’t know were there. I twitch my fingers and look down to see the blue chullo hat still there. I hold it tighter then take my first steps back into reality.


End file.
